


Wedding night

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [88]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	Wedding night

  
**players only. backdated to December 14th, 2013. takes place in Wellington, New Zealand, the same day as[the boys get married.](http://antony-starr.dreamwidth.org/10874.html)**

_warning for boot worship_

The drive had been quiet, they'd held hands but nothing more, Stephen had not wanted to test his resolve any further. Even as they check in he stands back, half a step beside Antony, his head lowered, his heart rate kicking up in anticipation of what is to come, of what his Sir has promised him.

"Mr. Schenken delivered your things earlier and they've been put in your suite," the young woman behind the counter tells Antony. "If there's anything else we can do for you, Mr. Starr, please don't hesitate to call."

"Thanks." Antony flashes her a quick smile before plucking the key cards from her fingers and turning back to Stephen. "We're the lift at the end. Top two floors."

He falls in beside Antony, and resists the urge to reach for his fingers, instead he plays with the back of his wedding ring with his thumb, it's presence unfamiliar but so welcome. The journey up is taken in silence, the tension between them building by the minute - until Stephen's fidgeting with the need to touch.

They've got half the top floor of the hotel - the presidential suite - every room overlooking the harbour and even with their view in L.A., Antony's suitably impressed when he opens the door, a soft whistle blown at the sight. Christ. "Nice," he says softly, locking the door behind them. "Marcus checked and there's no one beside or below us. At least not booked."

"We can be as loud as we like then huh?" Stephen moves around the room, admiring the décor, and the view. He shucks off his jacket, turning to smile at his husband. "So yeah, wow, our wedding night."

"I guess I should have carried you over the threshold," Antony says with a grin, watching Stephen, his blood starting to hum with arousal.

"No, you did that when you collared me, once is enough," Stephen grins, working on the buttons of his shirt. "I should go wash up, prep - would you like to find my collar? It's in the leather holdall."

Antony grabs the box with Stephen's collar from their bags and pauses, staring at the gift-wrapped parcel sitting with it. "Is this for me?" he calls to Stephen in the bathroom.

Stephen's busy washing himself down quickly as he calls back, "Yeah, but I want to give it to you later." After they've played, when they're curled up in bed, sated and quiet.

Antony sets the parcel out on the bed, changes out of his suit into his boots and other clothes, and heads back out to the living room with the box in hand.

Stephen makes his way out of the bathroom into the bedroom suite and pauses, his gift is on the bed, and Antony's wedding suit is laid over a chair by the bed, which means his lover has either changed, or is naked. He's had a lazy erection for a while now, but his cock thickens fully as he moves to the door that leads to the living room. He's barely a step through when his gaze falls on his Sir....and Stephen's breath hitches audibly.

Now _that's_ the reaction Antony was hoping for. "C'mere boy," he drawls softly, his cock kicking up at the sight of Stephen - and his boy's erection.

Stephen's on his knees before he realises it. Unable to stay on his feet he crawls the distance between them, his focus entirely on his Sir, and as he draws closer he'd swear he can smell the leather his owner is wearing. Fuck.

"You like this, boy?" Antony says, cock straining against the zipper of his worn jeans, a black leather vest and Stephen's favourite black boots completing the outfit. "What I'm wearing."

Stephen's mouth opens to answer, but has to close it again to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he sits back on his heels, his posture perfect as he scans his Sir from those perfect black boots up to his face. "Boy thinks it is perfect," he murmurs, "For a...for a leather..." he stutters to silence, the word 'master' stuck in his throat.

"For a leather what?" Antony prompts, brushing the toe of his boot against Stephen's balls.

There's a soft whine that spills from Stephen's throat at that touch, at the promise of what is to come. "A leather..." He starts again, pushing the word up out of his mouth. "...master."

"That's right," Antony says, pressing a little harder. "Boy's leather master. Say it."

Later Stephen might wonder why Antony chose today, tonight, their wedding night to push this, but right now he's falling down the rabbit hole of his subspace with no way back - not until Antony wills it so.

"Boy's...boy's leather..." And again that pause. "...master."

"Good boy." Antony pulls his foot back for a moment and steps in, his hands going to the collar around Stephen's throat. He switches it out for Stephen's slave collar, his hands warm, firm, possessive, his cock giving another throb as he sets the lock into place.

Stephen tilts his head back when the lock snaps in place, hazy eyes searching his Sir's face. "Is...is that what boy is to call you?..." his words are slurred a little, hesitant even.

"Not tonight," Antony says, stroking Stephen's cheek. Not when they haven't discussed it and Stephen's already deep in subspace. "Tonight you call me Sir."

"Thank you Sir," Stephen turns his face into Antony's palm and presses a kiss to the palm, inhaling his Sir's scent.

Antony's breath catches, the gesture so intimate, the connection between them so deep. "I promised you my boots," he murmurs.

"You did," Stephen looks up. "Boy would ask for Sir's pain too, to be Sir's toy, his pleasure first."

Antony nods. "Bring me my belt. It's with my suit," he orders. It's simple but they don't have a lot of toys here and he can't do too much damage with the things they want to do in the next few days.

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir," Stephen drops down onto all fours and disappears into the bedroom, returning moments later with Antony's belt neatly folded up and caught delicately in his teeth. He kneels once more and tips his face up.

"Good boy," Antony says, taking the belt from Stephen. "Get up on the ottoman. All fours facing the sofa."

Stephen's trembling with anticipation as he settles on all fours as directed. He takes a deep  
breath to settle himself, he gives up on trying to hold back his head space, instead he allows it to wash over him. Now all he has to do is exactly as he's told and take his Sir's pain as the gift it is intended to be.

Antony doubles the leather in one hand, but he doesn't use the belt just yet. Instead he rubs his palm over Stephen's ass, gripping first one cheek and then the other before giving them both a hard slap.

The blow rocks him forward a little, but Stephen makes no sound as he rights his posture. However his fingers pressing a little tighter into the leather beneath him. "Thank you Sir," he murmurs.

"You're welcome, boy," Antony murmurs, dipping his fingers into Stephen's cleft, pads playing over that well-slicked pucker.

_That_ elicits a sound from Stephen; a low soft sound of need, he's been on edge for hours now, and Antony always knows exactly where to touch, how to touch to bring Stephen right to the edge. Already Stephen's aching to be fucked, filled, used.

Antony pushes two fingers inside Stephen, moving them in and out, a soft groan spilling from his lips as he watches his boy's body grasp so fucking hungrily at them.

"More." The demand is spoken before Stephen can censor himself, his need overriding his manners, his protocol. His hips lift, his back bowing as he physically begs for what he needs.

"Not yet," Antony says, immediately pulling his fingers free. Any other night, any other time he'd call Stephen on forgetting himself, but not tonight. Not when he wants this to be nothing but pleasurable for them both. He switches hands, the leather fitting perfectly in his right, and brings it in against Stephen's ass at half-strength.

Sweet, beautiful pain. The smack of the leather lights up Stephen's skin, radiating over his back and down his thighs, it's mere foreplay at this point, but it's a perfect taste of what's to come.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, continuing in the same manner, at the same strength. Bringing the belt in again and again until Stephen's ass and the back of his thighs are a nice uniform pink.

It's perfect, just the right pace and depth to let Stephen fly on endorphins, nothing he has to fight, he just gives himself up, safe in the knowledge his Sir will always catch him. Head down, eyes closed, he gifts his Sir each noise, until he's whimpering softly from a combination of pain and pleasure.

Pausing for a moment, Antony runs his hand over Stephen's heated cheeks. Scrapes his nails over the sensitized flesh before gripping each cheek roughly in turn.

Grunting at the less than gentle handling, Stephen rocks on his hands and knees, his cock is achingly hard, strings of precum hang from the tip to the leather beneath him and his skin is hypersensitive.

"You ready for more, boy?" Antony drawls, slapping Stephen's ass.

"Ye....yes Sir...always Sir." And it's true, Stephen is always ready to take what his Sir decides to gift him. Pain or pleasure, degradation or praise. "Thank you Sir."

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, taking a step back and bringing the belt in again, this time harder, the strength behind the blows ramped up another quarter. Slowly building on what he's begun.

This time it's a soft cry of real pain, a new layer of sensation, his Sir always knowing how to dance the edge of what Stephen can take. Brain chemistry takes over, flooding Stephen's body with a new wave of feel good pain killers, making him fly even higher still.

That cry goes straight to Antony's cock, his jeans tighter than ever. He layers the blows, making sure to cover every inch of skin, ass and back of thighs, before starting over and laying into Stephen even harder, the knowledge that they're in a hotel and that he _wants_ his boy to be able to walk tomorrow ever present in his mind.

Sweat beads over Stephen's skin, dampens his hairline, making his ass sting where the blows have opened up tiny wounds, teeth bared he growls through each blow now. He may have taken so much more pain in recent weeks, but right now, he's edging toward his limit.

It's enough. Whether anyone can hear them or not, Antony's lust is overriding his sadism tonight and his cock _demands_ to be inside his boy. He drops the belt on the floor, unzips his jeans - and pulling Stephen back onto him by the front of his thighs - sinks himself deep with one rough thrust.

Even after all this time together, even as often as he's used, Stephen can still struggle to take Antony's dick - his Sir's cock is not only long, it's thick and it's rare that Antony goes for that 'one punch' entry - this time it steals Stephen's breath, his throat closes off totally for a moment as his body is entered so brutally then he's sucking in air like a drowning man as pain and pleasure overwhelm him.

Antony tightens his grip on Stephen's thighs, holding his boy in place as he gives him a minute to adjust. "That's it. You can take it, boy."

It takes a few slower breaths before Stephen can feel his ass relaxing, that intense feeling of being full to tearing point eases off, it's all the leeway Antony needs to start moving, to start fucking his boy.

Feeling that moment when Stephen's body yields, Antony pulls back and drives in again, a groan spilling from his lips at just how fucking good it feels. Again and again, he drives his cock into Stephen's ass, watching it disappear, fuck that hole open.

Raw, a little nasty, rough - just how they both love it, just how Stephen likes to be used by his Sir and owner. He takes everything Antony gives him, arching back, begging for more.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Antony murmurs, trying to hold himself back. Wanting to savour this a bit longer. But it's _too_ good. He grips Stephen's cheeks, spreading them wide, and plunges in, hips snapping a good dozen times before he comes with a shout.

Head low between his arms, panting, faced flushed dark, Stephen whimpers out a soft noise as Antony stills, the air thick with the stink of male bodies, pheromones and sex.

Antony rocks his hips a few times, drawing out his pleasure, before finally pulling free. "Good boy." He walks around the side of the ottoman and offers Stephen his hand, helping him up and then to the floor. "Now for _your_ reward," he says, sprawling in a nearby chair, his boots out in front of him.

When Stephen looks up the sight before him is utterly debauched. His Sir, flushed and sweaty from sex, lounging in a chair like it's a freaking throne. His jeans open to display a cock still slick with lube and cum, blue eyes hooded with satisfaction. Antony has never looked so sexually powerful to Stephen as he does in this moment.

And then there's those boots. Inching forward on all fours Stephen nuzzles first at his Sir's denim clad knee, before nosing his way down to the top of one leather boot. This close he can smell it, the subtle leather aroma that fills his nose and makes his head swim for the want of tasting it. A soft moan and then he allows himself to press his lips to the smooth surface in a reverential kiss.

Antony's still-hard cock gives a deliberate twitch at the sight and he murmurs, "Good boy."

The words barely register, Stephen is so intent on his task - which is as far from a chore as it is possible to be. He nuzzles the leather lovingly before he starts to lick with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue.

Normally there'd be a whole lot of humiliation involved with this, Antony calling Stephen names, _forcing_ him to perform the act, but tonight there's simply a good boy who's earned his reward. His cast-iron kink. And Antony's just sitting back and enjoying every second of it. Watching his fucking gorgeous _husband_ clean his boots with his tongue.

Stephen takes his time, lost in the act of worshipping his Sir's boots, but eventually he's done, both boots have had equal attention and his need has been satiated. Curling up at Antony's feet Stephen sets his cheek to his Sir's boot and stills.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs again, simply savouring the moment. Completely relaxed, his boy at his feet. Christ. It doesn't get much better than this.

Stephen doesn't doze, but he does zone out, beaten, fucked and rewarded he's content to lay at Antony's feet for as long as his Sir sees fit to keep him there. The fact that this is his wedding night seems to have become irrelevant in the moment.

"We should probably think about bed," Antony says, glancing at his brilliant new watch. "Stephen?" He leans forward, rubbing his fingers through Stephen's hair.

Stephen, not _boy_. Even so... "Yes Sir," the response is a little slurred, but he's present enough to be alert to Antony's needs. He pushes up, humming his pleasure at the touch of his Sir's hand on his head.

Antony leans in and kisses Stephen on the mouth. "We have cake and you have a present for me," he points out with a smile, helping Stephen to his feet as he rises. "Although we could keep both for tomorrow."

Stephen shakes his head. "May boy wash up Sir? A quick shower, then maybe we can go to bed with a drink and your gift?" He's tired, sore, spacey but he wants to make this day last as long as he can.

"Of course," Antony nods, giving Stephen another kiss. "Go ahead. I'll wash up in the other bathroom." If he doesn't they might never make it to bed.

The next few minutes are a bit of a daze, Stephen takes himself off to the main bath where he makes swift use of the large rainfall shower, soaping up and sluicing off the semen that's slicked between his ass cheeks and down the backs of his thighs, wincing as he twists, the welts from his beating making themselves known. He does a perfunctory job of drying himself off, eager to return to his Sir’s side.

Antony strips off, leaving his clothes and boots in the bedroom while he washes up in the other bathroom. Naked, he pours two glasses of scotch from the bar and pads back to bed, slipping under the covers, Stephen's gift left where he laid it earlier.

Stephen has eyes only for his Sir when he appears in the doorway to the bedroom suite, he smiles, climbing up onto the bed on his knees and sitting down crossed legged beside his lover.

"I poured you a scotch," Antony says with a smile, handing the glass over. "How was the shower?"

"Almost perfect." Stephen takes the proffered glass. "It was missing someone," he takes a sip and hums out his appreciation at the amber liquid, he's getting more discerning in his tastes under Antony's guidance, and this, is _good_.

"I know, but I figured we'd never get here if I joined you," Antony says, clinking his glass against Stephen's. "To us."

"To us," Stephen echoes, his heart squeezing for a moment, "To my incredible husband, who knows all the ways to make me incredibly happy."

Antony smiles. "Today really was the happiest day of my life," he says, leaning in for a kiss.

"I'm glad," Stephen murmurs against Antony's mouth. "Cos it was mine too."

"It lived up to all your expectations?" Antony asks, because he needs to be sure. Knows how much the whole wedding thing and having their families there meant to Stephen.

"It was perfect, all of it," Stephen assures his lover as he pulls back a little. "I wouldn't have done it any different, I had all I needed, the people that love us, and you."

Antony smiles then nods towards the gift-wrapped parcel at the end of the bed, eyes crinkling. "You're gonna let me open that tonight?"

"Oh! Shit! Yes, yes of course." Stephen's been so distracted by his sexy new husband all else had escaped him. "Right." He reaches for the perfectly wrapped parcel. "These aren't the actual gift, those are at home, they're larger - these...are so you can see what you have." _Literally,_ he thinks as he offers Antony the present.

Antony carefully unwraps the package despite his eagerness, his gaze constantly flickering to Stephen. He's had a pretty good idea of what the parcel might contain - pictures - but the reality of what's inside still steals his breath away. Christ. His cock kicking up again in an instant. "Wow. When did you have these done?" He takes a quick look at all three then returns to the first for a better look. Stephen kneeling, facing the camera a little off centre, against a white brick wall, wearing nothing more than his collar and a leather harness on his chest. Staring at the camera as if it were Antony.

"I actually had them done when you were last away, they were supposed to be Christmas gifts...but then you agreed to my insane suggestion we get married right away...and I thought these would be the perfect wedding gift." He leans up to peer around at the one Antony is studying. "Louis helped me pick the right photographer, have it all set up."

"And you said there's bigger ones at home?" Antony moves to the next one. Same position, same set, but now Stephen's looking down at a pair of Antony's unlaced black leather boots. Fuck.

"Yeah - framed, ready to hang where ever you like." He can tell by the intensity with which Antony is studying the pictures that he likes them. "They're cool huh? I had a clear idea what I wanted, and this photographer just...got it, she was amazing."

"She was just lucky," Antony grins. "She had the perfect subject." He turns to the last. Same as the first but now Stephen's beaten - black eye, split lip, bruises all over his torso, his posture a little off - again holding the gaze of the camera. Holding Antony's gaze. "They did a good job with the make-up," he murmurs, thinking of the pictures he took of Stephen after their big scene.

"They did, didn't they? All I could think about while I was sitting having it applied was the scene we had planned, about when I'd look like that for real." Stephen shuffles around to sit beside his lover. "You love them right?" He glances from the picture to Antony's face.

"I do, yeah," Antony nods. Definitely. "They're fantastic." He grins at Stephen. "I don't suppose they gave you any digital copies?"

"I can get some." Stephen arches a brow. "Large framed shots not enough?" he teases.

Antony laughs. "I was thinking of putting them on my phone. Locked down tight, of course. For when I'm away."

Stephen snorts at that. "You think that's a good idea? I don't want to be distracting you."

"I'll keep them for when I'm in my bunk," Antony promises, crossing his heart. He leans in and kisses Stephen. "You never got to come earlier..."

"I know," Stephen reaches up to slide his hand around the back of Antony's neck. "I wasn't given permission."

"Well you have it now," Antony says, setting the photos carefully aside. "I want you to ride me."

"Okay." Stephen's body is way ahead of the game, his dick having filled out the moment Antony changed the subject back to sex. "As Sir, or Tony?" Stephen wants the clarity tonight - is it his Sir using him, or his new husband making love with him.

"I was Sir earlier," Antony says, watching Stephen. "I'm your Tony now."

_..your Tony..._ Pushing back up onto his knees, Stephen inches in, crowding his lover back against the pillow pile and the head board. " _My_ Tony? My husband, _that_ Tony?" He nuzzles kisses against the shadow of whiskers on his lover's skin. "I want him, I want him so fucking much."

"He's all yours," Antony murmurs, shivering lightly under those kisses, his cock eager to be back inside his boy, his lover, his husband.

Shoving the covers aside Stephen makes no bones about manhandling Antony beneath him, growling and murmuring nonsense noises in turn until he's lubing his ass up and swiping his greasy hand along Antony's shaft in one swift motion before settling himself over his husband's hips.

Seeing Stephen like this, _feeling_ him like this, is so fucking hot. Antony growls back, hands gripping his husband's hips, a rough groan spilling from his lips as Stephen pushes down, his cock popping through that first ring of muscle. "Fuck, yeah," he murmurs, eyes closing for an instant. The better to savour.

Leaning in, Stephen makes a grab for Antony's chin. "Look at me," he demands, his voice breaking as Antony's cock fills him - even after the fuck earlier it's not easy. "Look at me," he grinds out again, blue eyes flashing with need.

Surprised, Antony opens his eyes, focusing his gaze on Stephen, his cock giving a rough throb inside him. "I am," he growls, rocking his hips, pushing deeper. "I'm looking at you."

"Good... you're mine too, as much as you own me, you're mine too, all of you," Stephen leans right in, his breath dancing over Antony's face as he cants his body forward then back taking all of Antony's cock down to the root. "Say it."

There's no hesitation. Absolutely none. "I belong to you," Antony responds on another groan, eyes locked on Stephen. "All of me. I'm yours and no one else's."

"I love you Antony," Stephen licks the words over Antony's parted lips before he covers his lover's mouth with his own and kisses him, it's hard and deep, bruisingly so, as Stephen's hands move over his lover's shoulders, down his arms to his wrists.

Antony bites at Stephen's mouth, licks deep inside, meets every downward movement with a thrust of his own, so fucking hard despite having already come. "Love you too," he breathes, feeling the weight of his wedding band, of promises made, sealed.

It's not slow and tender sex like most couples would indulge in on their wedding night, it's raw, passionate, almost visceral in its intensity, Stephen riding Antony's body with sharp hip movements, his hands grabbing, squeezing, pushing. His mouth full of the taste of his lover's skin, his kisses. "I'm going to cum," Stephen growls out. "I'm going to cum on you."

"Do it," Antony urges, cock throbbing violently inside that tight heat, knowing it won't take much to push him over. "Mark me."

And Stephen does, a few rough strokes of his hand and he's painting Antony's belly and chest with thick ropes of cum, his release so overwhelming that he's unusually loud as he shouts out his pleasure. "Fuck! Fuck! Yes!"

Antony follows almost instantly, each spurt that hits his skin met with one inside Stephen, his nails digging into his husband's hips, leaving marks he doesn't have to worry about. Fuck yes is right.

When his crisis is over, Stephen slumps down over Antony's body, his heart pounding, his breathing ragged. Sweat and semen slick their skin. "Oh fuck."

"Yeah." Antony nods, hands moving to Stephen's back, holding him tight. "That was incredible."

"I got growly," Stephen smiles against Antony's ear, loving the play of his lover's fingers over the heated skin of his back.

"I know. It was hot," Antony admits with a soft laugh, amused at his own reactions.

"Was it?" Lifting his head, his weight shifted onto one elbow he looks down into Antony's face. "I just felt all....possessive."

Antony smiles. Anyone else grabbing his jaw like that and he'd break their wrist, but Stephen? "I like you possessive," he says. "I wouldn't want it like that all the time but we both staked our claims on each other today so it seems appropriate."

"You think I could be growly like that all the time?" Stephen chuckles, a little shake of his head and dips down to press a soft kiss to Antony's mouth. "I just...I'm strong - like you - and I rarely test myself against you like that - it's kinda weird I think." He huffs out a noise. "Ignore me, it's been a long, amazing, emotional day, I'm not making sense."

"Yeah, you are, and I know you're strong. I've seen you train, I know this," running a hand over Stephen's tightly muscled shoulder and bicep, "doesn't come without working for it. If we ever actually fought, I'd win but not because you're not as strong as me - because I've had training you haven't. Years of it."

"I know you'd win." Stephen's under no illusions about that. "You'd fight dirty, you're not someone who would fight fair, you'd fight to win, every time." It's a truth he's come to understand about his lover - husband - Antony is a man you'd want in your corner, at your back, never someone you'd want to be facing down.

"True," Antony admits, because how can he not? Stephen may not know everything about him, might not even know the stuff that lurks way deep down, but this man knows him better than anyone else on Earth. "But that doesn't mean you don't have me wrapped around your finger," he teases.

"I know this too," Stephen laughs, but it soon morphs into a vaguely pained groan as he pushes up and lets Antony's dick slide from his body. "I'm gonna go grab a washcloth to clean up, then I think...I just want to lie in your arms." He slips from the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, his gait a little stiff, his body beaten and bruised.

"Sounds good. Do you want a lie-in tomorrow or a big breakfast here?" Antony asks, reaching for the box of tissues to clean himself up.

When Stephen returns he offers Antony a cloth, he'd wiped himself down in the bathroom. "Here." He climbs back in beside Antony. "Can't I have both?" He bats his lashes in a mockery of flirtation.

"Nope." Antony laughs. He cleans himself up and sets the cloth on top of his empty scotch glass. Pulls Stephen in close. "Unless they've started doing full breakfasts on the train."

"Okay, well I'll have two of whatever they call breakfast on the train, I'm going to be ravenous." Wincing a little Stephen settles himself against Antony's body, his cheek set against his lover's chest, the hair there tickling his nose. "You smell of sex, of me," he murmurs, eyes already slipping shut, his body growing heavy as he relaxes.

Antony smiles. "I like it that way," he murmurs, kissing the top of Stephen's head. "Love you."


End file.
